Desire and Destruction
by Night Strider
Summary: Ignored by one girl, violated by another. You'd think Mitsui was loveless all his life. Far from it. He was in love, once upon a time. MitRu-RuMit.Dedicated to all MitRu lovers especially Pollux.CONCLUDED
1. Chapter I

Desire and Destruction

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: So you think Mitsui has been loveless all his life? Far from it. He was in love, once upon a time. MitRu (Yaoi) Dedicated to all MitRu lovers like me

A/N: This isn't about Neil Gaiman's the Endless. hehehe. But the title does bear the names of his characters in Sandman.  
Anyhow, tomorrow's the start of our friggin classes which only goes to say that Apocalypse is just a knock away. You may not be hearing anything from me again for awhile; but if I have the time, I'd like to write some more if not for the hectic shed. I'm a college bud, y'know. . This is un-edited as usual so bear with the errors.

Chapter I: When Little Hisashi First Met His Match

There's the omnipresent apothegm that lingers in the deepest crevices of a lover's holy conviction, 'All mankind love a lover.'-Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Crush...How do you define it? Uhmmm, Let's see...Yesterday I leafed through my handy webster dictionary and looked up its elusive meaning. I noticed that it practically occupied one fourth of the page and almost 89 per cent of the phrases that tried to limit its character wasn't exactly what I averred to find there. At the bottom of the column was printed, 'An infatuation, or the object of it.' Bull's eye. So there you have it. Other definitions produced something like 'To crumple or to pound as to break blah blah blah.' In rudimentary analysis, it simply means--crush is what happens when you rumple dead leaves in your backyard with your sadistic rubber soles and make a creaking sound like this, khkhkhkh...Or anything that sounds closely. Then the word 'crush' is born, together with its winding pedigree of definitions that all suggests the same meaning; destruction.

Infatuation, being described as a certain feeling of euphoria that stimulates hormonal urges, certainly doesn't set itself apart from the other non-amorous meanings of 'crush'. Symptoms may consist the following; Blushing, speechlessness, inexplicable joy, demoniac laughter or maniacal grin, sudden outburst of one's motor mouth, ADHD, adrenaline rush, profuse sweating, numbness, nausea, sickness, fainting, sexual arousal, etc. Its constituents, being unknown, are closely related to the mystical forces of 'attachment.' Ironically, however, effects may/always exhibit the aftermath of devastation.

Epic proportions. Balance. Contradiction.

It jumbles in havoc everything in the equilibrium of nature and metaphysics. In other words, it's a confusion. A systematically hated feeling that gives out a reverse answer to the equation's variables that are inosculated initially to solve the problem. Strictly speaking, there is exultation out of the bad mug.

Get my drift?

Natch.

To expand...

Hisashi Mitsui (the name I am called) was togged out as a crazy, idiotic luke when he fell 'in love' with a rabbit teeth school girl at the fresh age of 7. A fraudulent emotion gashed across his premature and vulnerable chest like a raging razor that was optimized by Cupid, the God of Love. A single, warped wham shot out. First there was a jaw-drop. Then came the dreamy, outlandish gaze in his eyes. Then followed the pointless blush, like an oozing sanguine blood of a slaughtered livestock. A withheld erection (when you're seven, you don't really understand why you always get a stupid stand-up). His reasons froze in idle to prevent them from fabricating into words and actions. Switching his brain from one train of thought to another was prohibited by the girl's misplaced/misunderstood appeal. A temporary lassitude nettled his faculties before the injection of desire took its merciless toll on him. He just went on gawking like a moron at the object of his unaided masturbation. What was there left to do for a 1st grader? How on Earth could he defy the whim of the God of Love who also was the God of Lust? You tell me.

Then the girl passed by. There was pure innocence...subtract the malice, please. Little Hisashi snuck his glance at her direction. Lost for life, he didn't know he was actually stealing the show; his classmates filled their role as the supernumerary cast (extra) to this quasi courting scene. There was an eruption of mocking and facetious cheer loud enough to tumble the building's foundations. 'Hisashi LOVES insert girl's name here 99X' They cried like a pack of sniggering hyenas. The jeering would continue for the next few minutes like a spectroscopic music disc that played nursery rhymes. Just like that, little Hisashi muckamucked and made his name stink from one end of Japan to the other. There was the first discovery regarding the love life of little Hisashi.

He would sneak up behind her on the way to the cafeteria. She would look back with a frown and suspect him of stalking. He would deny it but when the mockers joined the masquerade he would be sensitive and take on the look of a defendant who has no chance of winning the case. Again they would croon harmoniously their favorite rhyme 'Hisashi Loves insert girl's name here'. The girl would just march out and consign the rest of the embarrassment to Little Hisashi, whose knees were all mealy of shame. He just grinned stupidly.

Then there came the inevitable condition of being fed up, y'know; when at last you had garnered the last of your patience and one snap of the string would just dice it. Of course it wasn't really his plan to be the laughingstock of the school for good so he decided to consult...you've guessed it right; the school's counselor as a final resort. It was the last option. He needed to make a resolution out of this childish humdrum. Naturally he ended up confessing that he liked this girl in the class and couldn't help it but to goggle at her like some sexual criminal. The counselor (who allegedly earned a PhD in Psychology in some Tokyo University) focused the problem of little Hisashi's being in love with this girl, instead of lecturing him on how to withstand teasing bastards like his classmates. He told him that it was as natural as winter precedes spring, that it was just an immature stroke of amity, that it would die out soon etc. Then he conducted a fib of an interview on what happened whenever little Hisashi was near her or whenever he came in contact with her, what he felt at those instances, yada yada yada. He never got one word of reassurance from the counselor that the latter would warn his classmates to cease at their foolish mockery; in fact he never mentioned a word about that. But the word did travel by mouth among the educators; not long after, even the teachers would just snicker along once little Hisashi's classmates commenced another set of teasing session concerning his indubitable 'crush' for this girl. Conclusively, that just gained little Hisashi a zero for his efforts and also, he learned that the counselor was a complete idiot and a good for nothing blabber-mouth. Great.

Little Hisashi continued to like her and whine for her for the next few days, weeks, and months. When the vacation came, slowly, he began to dispel any thought of her. Then everything he felt for her faded like the first stray wind that brushed the Earth in Genesis. At last little Hisashi was now free of her enticing aura!

That was the first time. It was a she, mark me. She looked like...I can't really remember (except for the humongous front teeth), but I adored her point blank. For a while, that is.

-Hisashi

TBC 


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: I detest Mary Sues and Ocs. Period. But I'm inserting an original character right now because it is highly necessary to complete the story. So yaoi fans, just wait and read along, ok? I'm on bended knees...

I beta read the first chapter and made an astonishing discovery; there were so many errors! Omigosh! But then that's the typical Night Strider, the writer who can't do without errors, neh? I'm being stupid again.

Anyways, thanks to my dear reviewers; castor and pollux, mistress kc, kaara, and dream kingdom.

Chapter II: His First Teenage Encounter with a Femme Fatale

There goes the rhetoric question concerning the hero of this fan fic, Hisashi Mitsui; had he ever been in love? Or to rephrase that cliché; had he ever nursed a love life even for the shortest minute? We learned that he had this inny winny crush on a seven year old school girl who had large front teeth, but by the end of the year the mischievous 'crush' literally vanished into thin air and well...Little Hisashi was no longer the butt of jokes because he no longer made a point of goggling at the girl like a moron. We didn't term the attraction as 'love' per se, we called it crush; the more puny, less complicated name for infatuation. So we try to answer the question, had he ever been in love? In this chapter, nope. You'll find out why later on in this fan fic.

Forsooth, the Hisashi Mitsui we mentioned was well nigh past his years to be entangled in frivolous attachment such as 'crush'(he was no longer Little Hisashi); in fact it was high time he got himself accustomed to dating. Meaning, he should've been seizing the occasion by immersing himself in a glamorous dolce vita; in nights out in movie theatres and some afternoon ice cream with a partner or an escort or anything. That being pointed out, let us add the fact that most of his friends were no longer single; if they were to fill up a curriculum vitae or an autograph book, they were going to place the words 'in a relationship' right after the blank beside the question of status. In short, they were some other girls' boyfriends! But Hisashi Mitsui was an outsider to the circle because, well, he didn't have a girlfriend. sniffs. His friends invented the nom de guerre 'NGSB' (No Girlfriend Since Birth) for Mitsui's condition which always resulted to some uncouth arguments among the boys. 'Don't state what's fucking brutally obvious!' Mitsui would spit back angrily and the boys would trap themselves in silent delight at Mitsui's pathetic 'solitude'. But sometimes they got crueler than this by pulling a prank on the poor boy like sending some ugly girl a love letter with Hisashi's name and address on it. When all was exposed Hisashi would go berserk and his friends would fall in to a noisy fit of titters. Once Hisashi had howled in violent vituperations that were never heard before and had taken on that ominous don't-fucking-make-fun-of-me-look, his friends would just cling to their precious lives by zipping their mouths. But deep inside, they honestly reckoned that their friend was indeed pathetic. Seeing things in that light, they came up with a novel nick name for their friend; since he was no longer the ratty Little Hisashi, 'Poor Pretty Boy' would fit him best at this moment. But we aren't going to call him that in this fan fic because it sounds too lousy and too cheesy (and I'm a cheesy writer), so we will simply call him Hisashi.

The last time Hisashi checked the stupid calendar he was thirteen years old; thirteen and he already urgently needed to get rid of his single status. That must've been an awful social requirement but in reality...it was really awful like a horror film. With all his optimistic awareness Hisashi knew that hopes were smiling at him and success was just an exhalation away. The reason being that he was already an eye catching mega suave hunk among adolescent females; not just that, it was because of his presence in the weekly basketball exhibition game that the local court was always jam packed with an army of bimbets cheering for Hisashi 'Kawaii' Mitsui.

And he was only thirteen. Imagine the charms he could've possessed to invoke such tremendous admiration. He must've been really cute in all angles. But Hisashi was NOT a go-getter despite his covetous exterior; he wanted to take it slowly, step by step with full concentration so that he might call it a clean victory. He was an introverted, non intellectual stud but he could be cleverer than what was expected of him. Or maybe he realized that no one was really good enough for him knowing the unbridled pride of his existence. Maybe.

He had never seen a girl topless, much less touched the mysterious bulk underneath someone else's bra. Whereas all his friends talked about was their girl friends' under wear and lingerie; the regular dissertations of these boys always included that distasteful, come-tell-us-how-you-got-her-laid subject, and every time they parleyed it Hisashi excused himself to the bathroom and vomited the rest of his anxieties to the toilet. Yuck! What a bunch of crumby pervs! Talk about lewdness incarnate. He thought; one of his fierce explosions of derision.

One time Hisashi was left out in the cold because as the usual status quo would have it, his friends were all out on a sentimental group date. Big idea, huh? Don't think that Hisashi never tried blind dates, of course he had (his friends being always there to succor his emergencies) but to everyone's distress every bit of it flopped out. Evidently, none of the candidates lived up to his standards; either this girl was too sloppy, or too flirtatious, or too plain, or too unconventional, etc for Hisashi Mitsui. And then onwards he proscribed any of the horrific ideas and plans that might suggest the essentials of the inveterately ineffective blind dating. 'If you have time to waste, don't waste it for me.' Mitsui would tell them and he would be in awesome yet boring tranquility.

Well, perhaps it was Hisashi's intention to prolong his agonizing 'NGSB' plight, not that he enjoyed it, it was just that...this story would just end there if he opted to take a liking to any of these ever-ready-to-be-fucked blind dates, and then the conflict is strained to one crack, get stuck there forever, and the fic is gone out to the library of 'suckage' and crappy resolutions (then Hisashi and the Bride lived happily ever after!). It would've been over too soon, neh? But of course the cynical cum way too eccentric author didn't fashion the story after the circular clockwork; so a few twists and outrageous slogs of insane accidents were added to the recipe.

Going back to the story...

As a replacement for the boredom it would summon, Hisashi would scuffle to find amusement in playing basketball alone in their garage area. What a genius resort! Beside the half court was a big Oak tree with a fat trunk, and if one looked closely there were plenty of carved straight lines on the rough surface that represented an unknown tally of something. But if you chose to ask Hisashi, he would answer these very same words; 'It's the number of times I played here alone because all my mates are out with their girlfriends.' Then he would sulk while firing some hoops. This day was something that disrupted the monotony of his afternoons like a typical spoke in the wheel or a splinter on the current (!), whatever the idiom was.

Hisashi released a shot from the seven footer. It was a fade away jumper, and since there was no opponent he had to act pantomime by pretending that somebody was trying to block him. So he did a faint and slanted his bodice like a collapsing log. There was nothing special about it; the ball followed a pretty curve along the space while swishing to and fro through the air. The arch was softly traced like a rainbow's shape, and the projectile was a little obtuse, that is, too sharp to be a sure gun. Then as if there was a magnet operating on the rim, the voluble object was sucked immediately to be swallowed by the fluffy basketball net. Swack. Nothing but net. Hisashi landed and swung backward to support his balance; the post momentum of his touchdown sent him a few feet away from the supposed landing mark. This was what he hated most about fade away jump shots; the chances of you falling butt first on the floor was almost 93 per cent. In Hisashi's calculations he already stumbled 109 times out of 113 tries, including this one.

But of course something happened because as I narrated earlier, this day was something different. Resuming, Hisashi was still retrieving his stance's steadiness when he heard a car's engine halt at their front gate or to be more accurate, at the front gate of their next door neighbor's house. A grip of heat wave caused some beads of perspirations to wallow down Hisashi's cheeks which only vexed his curiosity. He was slightly surprised because that house had had no residents for the last five years. He was even afraid to check out the house at night because rumor had it that some townspeople heard wailings issuing from it whenever midnight struck. But of course it was just a stupid conjecture of some rusticated folks. But the important thing was, some family from the other state was moving in to that house.

Then the people from the car emerged one by one. There were about four of them whatever. They had a daughter and forget the rest of the clan. But then Hisashi's world fell apart, or rather overturned; everything he held sacred in his being single was immediately obliterated from his self styled Decalogue. He dismissed the idea of remaining eligible because there in front of him was his dream girl! This time he could picture her completely; she was some sort of a gothic princess and her face was painted heavily with Maybelline's dark hues; it kinda reminded him of Tim Burton's Edward Scissor Hands. Her ear rings' diameter was as the same size of a tennis ball and they were all dangling from her pitiable earlobes, no hyperbole involved. But her skin was rather pallid or perhaps it was buried in an inch thick of face powder one could plant potatoes on it. Whatever. Then a feeling, a knife-thrust bolt of weird feeling whelmed Hisashi the Poor Pretty Boy, agonizing its way from his toes all the way to his neck to send an eerie electrification. That's what his feelings were at that moment; the kind that had no name and would permit no analysis. By then he was looking as though he was ferociously fighting for air in some caved-in lair; needless to say, his testosterones just gave him another pointless erection. How he hated this; it revived all the doggeries of a hentai teenager.

Then it finally dawned on him...it was another 'crush'. It had been a bloody long time since he was entitled to admire someone in an amatory mode. And he was no longer used to it. Then he jaw-dropped again, followed by the same course of actuations when he was head over heels for his first grade crush. Same things were rewinding before his very eyes or rather within his very body and life.

Then Ms. Goth the dream girl, as if taking notice of Hisashi's fumbling and all his stupidities, looked at him. And Hisashi, partly of want of attention and partly of his spunk's trial, did a backbone elbow pass to himself and headed straight for a hub scraping reverse lay up. Just to flaunt something that would supply him ample reason to strut. It was pretty impressive nonetheless. Either Ms. Goth uttered something of an appraisal like a 'wow' or a scornful comment like 'What a jackass', Hisashi just smiled and began to twaddle something as lame along the lines of 'Welcome to the neighborhood, newcomers.' But what the hell mattered? The girl smiled back, a screen of a smile that would win her all conflicts against Hisashi. Then the woman, who was most likely the mother or grandma, asked in a croaky voice, 'Is this house number twenty six?' Apparently it was, since a sign board almost as big as their car's hood read 26. She might as well ask if Hisashi was God's creation. Oh well, geronts of this century sure are a drag, aren't they? They tend to forget everything in their dotage. What a pity. Hisashi thought peevishly.

Infatuation almost seemed an understatement for Hisashi, our beautiful hero, was strung out for the girl (in no time flat Hisashi was, shall we say, helplessly addicted to this new kid on the block). Her name was actually Mari Su (hehehe. She was Chinese) and with all her funky get up and outlandish attitude of a reprobate, Hisashi became even more enthralled. She could finish off a pack of Marlboro in two straight hours and quaff a full decanter of Absolut vodka the very next minute she doused off all those cigarette butts (so if the future gangster Hisashi happened to be nuts for this sort of duncy vice, blame it on Mari Su). She was so freaking cool like a rebellious stager! While her; she knew all about it (Hisashi's stupid crush on her) and she got the Poor Pretty Boy wrapped around her mean fingers. She would order him like a pup to catch a Frisbee or tie him around a tree or act like her personal nanny and all, and Hisashi would willingly obey like there would be no later. All because she would pay Hisashi a cheap smile anyway. What a slut! But then a manipulative bitch had no conscience, and a visit from this rare puberty obsession was that extreme.

Of course Hisashi's parents, being the niminy piminy diplomats that they were, weren't exactly ignorant of their son's escapades with that ragamuffin girl, and they weren't at all pleased at what had been happening. Well, what kind of parents would be anyway? Even his friends were dejected arrantly; try as they might to dismiss the thought that Hisashi was no longer a virgin, they couldn't help but to suspect the worse (actually they were just scared stiff that the used-to-be girlfriendless boy highballed ahead of them in terms of experience). They had reprimanded Hisashi a hundred times, nixed him harshly to never touch the bitch again, and even locked him up inside the cupboard so he wouldn't meet up with Mari Su in some secret rendezvous. But in one way or another, the silly billy Hisashi always wormed his way out to the 'love of his life'; no one could desist him from his tired-face-but-super-willing-to-be-her-fucking-fan-yet-it's-me-and-you-against-the-world happiness. They had no right! Yeah, they had no fucking right after all the shit-eating and dust-biting he had gone through.

One time, Hisashi's mother detected a malodorous odor meandering inside their house. Only hell could describe how upset she was to discover that her son hadn't taken a shower for three freaking days, and it was the middle of summer that one couldn't get on a day without being baked! She was furiously hysterical to an even higher degree when she found out the reason; this little bitch stuck one of her nasty gums on Hisashi's head and the silly boy, due to his silly infatuation, thought it would be straight genius to let the stinking gum remain on his hair for good as a memento. Imagine the pure, gibbering insanity that affray started inside Mitsui Family's abode; well, it was a reenactment of the 2nd Great War.

Now telling Hisashi off with a disciplinary whack on the head was next to nothing; he wouldn't give up on Mari Su. And the blows became harder and harder to the maximum capacity of a muscled arm. His dad was tired of whacking; 'Stay away from that harlot, son!' he roared harshly. 'Stop hitting me, dad. It's painful!' Hisashi would scoff out loud in the air but the complaint only produced a thunder-like whip. 'Quit prowling around then and I'll consider treating you like a flesh! For Pete's sake, son, She's seventeen! And what are you? An uncircumcised lad of 13!' His dad would shout back. 'Age doesn't matter, old man!' Hisashi would retort imprudently while wiping off some tears from his swollen eyes. In hell's truth he was somewhat concerned about their age gap; it was pretty much an issue and a controversial one in that case. 'Avast, you silly boy! She's not even a doll. Take Ira instead.' Mr. Mitsui growled and donated another set of blows. Ira was the Mitsui's family friend's daughter; she liked collecting pink stuff and Backstreet Boys' posters and pin ups to tape them on her pink bedroom walls. Hisashi was terrified or should we say, traumatized by the thought of them together in the wonderful world of swains and lovers. He'd rather sleep with boa constrictor, he thought.

What do you suppose happened then?

Hisashi, thirteen, who didn't even know the meaning of dignity back then, tried to impress Mari Su further by boldly defying his parents. Through all lengths he managed to find more time with the girl. They were 'happy' until...

Hisashi's parents bought a new house in Kanagawa. A beautiful two storey building designed by Kenzo Tamge of the Asagawa firm, a world renown architect whose mentor was the legendary, monochromatic designer Mies Van Der Rone of the University of Germany. Hisashi was incensed beyond belief; by the end of the day, all of their expensive furniture, those priceless china wares where the ancient empire people of the Tu Yo Dynasty kept their preserved mummies, were scattered in smithereens all over the floor due to his perilous outbreak. Mr. And Mrs. Mitsui strove to pacify the wrathful son by announcing that he would have his own whole court in his bedroom; and they weren't lying. There it was wooden floored complete with a shot clock on each basket pole and a digital score board (I'm not exaggerating; they were that affluent in this fic). Their new house was a knockout, 'star studded' like a rainless evening. But then it was time to say goodbye to unique Mari Su.

Hisashi left his hometown the next week, still a virgin; Mari Su wouldn't even give him the privilege to peep at her under garments. That advantage was reserved alone for her 'true' boyfriend in her senior high school. Then she just blew him a stinking kiss as her final goodbye. What a cold hearted tart!

And Hisashi cried and cried. He had never cried so much all his life.

TBC

A/N: please continue reading. I know I made an annoying character out of Mari Su but trust me this is the last time she would appear in this fic. Yeah, she would be pretty much dead to Hisashi's world the next time I upload the 3rd chap. As for the writing, I know it's as crappy as a kindergarten's composition on how he spent a vacation; there are very few dialogues because writing them is my weakness (Swear! I think I should be reading more of Oscar Wilde at that). But you know; I've been besotted the whole week. I wonder why...thanks for the time, folks! 


	3. Chapter III

Desire and Destruction

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: 3rd chapter, yipeee! I'm nearly done with all this. hahaha. You probably won't hear anything from me for awhile because...because of heavy school works(Que dalor! Night Strider va a loca; no comprenda los lenguas y lecciones en el universidad pero escriba istorias muy bien por Slam Dunk!). Next time would probably tell you that I'm somewhere between purgatory and dirt (Que lastima!). Hence, feel free to attend my funeral. Yao.

Chapter III: Mitsui and the Danger of Being Confused

Hisashi Mitsui's final year as a high school basketball player won't be that easy.

The ball bounces back on the floor. Wham! It says. Then it shoots out of the air in a straight line to bang against the 50 foot stadium roof. Its motion is followed by 2 pair of flippant eyes, hollow eyes with no expression as always. While another set of orbs is blaring with maddening heat; its owner is the very same who threw the ball a little earlier. Probably an effort to fling it to somebody. Somebody's angry with someone, again. It doesn't change; it's always the case when Mitsui and Rukawa are together in the court.

'Bastard. What kind of game do you want us to play here? Fuck you. Go find someone who would be willing to have you as a team mate. I don't care if you're giving enough for Shohoku; you're giving us hell just the same.' Mitsui snaps, never altering that fiery gaze and that famous frown. He moves a step closer to Rukawa as if to try to intimidate the other.

But then again, it's Rukawa; nothing really cringes him. Not that Mitsui is someone to be feared. Former gangster; Rukawa's sort of familiar with the other's awful history but...Who the hell cares for his past anyway?

'Why does a pass, just one little sign of generosity, seems so hard for you to perform? All you have to do is douse the fucking ball to me when you're in a mess and let the other team members take care of it. I mean, don't be a fucking ball-hogger, Rukawa; you're being worse than a donkey.' Mitsui continues with an intention to inculcate the other by swearing hoarsely. At any minute, he will be cracking his fist's joints and possibly, he will shove just one knuckle at Rukawa or so it seems ominously. The air screams for the other Shohoku boys to interfere.

Rukawa purses his lips. He never really says anything whenever this scene is relayed. As if Mitsui has gone far enough; all he can spit at Rukawa are banal curses that never penetrates deeper than the skin. Mitsui can call Rukawa a horrendous fucker, a bastard, an asshole, a jackass, an incredible sonuvabitch...just about every nasty name available in town. But that won't sway the freshman; he's the Ice King for crying out loud, what do bad words matter when he can hog the ball all he wants? Mitsui's just a bastard whose envy's probably rising on its boiling point; he can't hurt Rukawa more than a pinch does. Or make that 'nothing really hurts Kaede Rukawa at all.'

After Rukawa gives a steady coup d oeil, he wheels around and fronts his snob-back at the senior. Again, he won't retaliate in any way. That's how this verbal brawl ends up each time; when Rukawa just turns to go, he means it's over and he's going home. It will be Mitsui's turn to keep quiet and he too will pack up. Of course it's nothing that will last to the next day; tomorrow will be another quiet day until Rukawa doesn't follow Mitsui's orders and the latter goes hysterical again. How tiring.

That's why nobody meddles with them. They can fix it all by themselves like self operating machines; let them arrange their personal defects.

But something goes wrong. Mitsui grips Rukawa's shoulder and sinks his fingers on the freshman's skin. One can see the visibly the red marks it leaves on Rukawa's white epidermis. Rukawa spins around and flutters his brows. That must hurt a lot.

'I don't want you playing on your own again the next time I bump into you; else, you will be arsed pretty badly by this.' Mitsui utters in sotto voce and raises his fist to show the other his arsenal. Rukawa knows he needs self reinforcement and gives out an irrational grunt.

First time he reacts more than a single breath. And first time he lets out a smug reply,

'Go to hell.'

So Rukawa is fed up with Mitsui's nagging after all. Mitsui smiles diabolically, seconds turn the smile into a frightening laughter until finally making it subside.

'Go to hell my ass. Chew on this-'

Mitsui buries a punch on Rukawa's left cheek. Not too hard not too soft; moderate blow, more like. However, it is enough to make Rukawa flinch a little and twist his neck in an acute angle. Mitsui's blood vessels are pumped, unquestionably; and so are Rukawa's. He blinks his eyes tightly as if to shake off any pain; he stands rooted for a second and glares at the insanely out of character senior.

Finally...

Rukawa folds his right knee and directs it to Mitsui's abdomen which makes the senior recoil an inch. Mitsui speedily gathers himself up for a retaliation as Rukawa lifts his chin up for the imminent mayhem. He's not moving back at the offer. At that moment, Shohoku boys recover from the initial shock of Mitsui's actions and rush in to the 2. 3 pairs muscled arms hold Rukawa in check while a couple restrains the violent Mitsui who's cussing the heavens out of Japan.

'Stop that, bastards!' Akagi takes over. Both are rewarded with a bulk on the head. Episode's over.

Next day. Lunch time.

Hisashi Mitsui dines sulkily inside the cafeteria. Miyagi spots him and slouches on the chair across.

'Mitchy, what the fuck happened there last night? Why is Rukawa such an asshole to you? I mean, no, he's not the butthole; you are. What has he ever done to you?' Asks MIyagi, one of the few veteran witnesses of Mitsui's outbursts.

'I hate the bastard, that's all.' Mitsui answers nonchalantly and sips on his vanilla coffee.

'Wow. But WHO do you like anyway? I don't get you; when it comes to Rukawa you're always hot headed. I mean, he doesn't play the way we like him to but sometimes you're the one who's over reacting. You're always over reacting.' Miyagi frowns. He often used to tell Mitsui off regarding the latter's conduct towards Rukawa but seeing that the senior is an irreparable case, he stopped at it. Perhaps, there's nothing anyone can do about it.

'Ryochin, don't be fake. You and I don't like Rukawa, the only difference is that I'm more explicit in my emotion. While you, you try to be nice so he will respect you once you've been appointed captain; all for the sake of good relationship with your members. But I don't have that and I don't like it. What more can I say? He's not really adorable.' Mitsui recites in an irreproachable passiveness. He's so cool to look at, one may think he's having a hell of a good time.

'And now you're saying that I should act the same by trying to beat Rukawa up? To hell with that. You're being pointless and too personal.' Miyagi reprimands the older lad. 'Yesterday, I saw something crooked in you; you weren't the Mitsui I knew. You just latched on Rukawa and gave him a blow. Fuck, what was that supposed to be?' Miyagi says irritably.

'I don't know exactly.' Mitsui answers with a scowl. He slams down his glass on the table and a few spurts of liquid fly out of it, making a mess on the snack table. He's lost his cool by now.

'You're loony mad. Freaky. What IS wrong with you?'

'What's wrong! How about this...I keep thinking about him every fucking night and I can't fucking get myself to sleep because he's always there. Call me crazy all you want but right now I'm still thinking of him. I always think of him even in fucking dreams. Fuck. I don't know, ok? Why do I have to think like this? Goodness...' Mitsui trails off. Confusion is an understatement with regard to that expression. He looks as if he's going to wring his head for it.

'Mitchy, you don't mean what I think you do, right?' Miyagi utters slowly as if that will hide his surprise.

'What?' Mitsui asks, obviously pestered by something that isn't even Miyagi's fault. He IS being lunatic at this moment.

'Uhmmm when a person thinks so often of another, it just means that there is attraction-'

'Fuck you. I'll give it the middle finger if you don't stop at that.' Mitsui almost shouts snidely but Miyagi goes on,

'Look at Ayako and I; I think of her 24/7, 7 days a week, I've been like this for 2 years and I don't deny that I am terribly attracted. I probably even love her. In your case there is no difference, or perhaps just a wee bit. Mitsui, you DON'T think of people when you hate them so much. You want to forget them and it's easy to do so. But if you like the person, it would be the hardest thing to do. Literally, there is no escape.' Miyagi breathes deeply and shoots a dramatic eye on the senior. 'Are you gay?'

'Fuck that double times. I've been involved with a couple of girls in my life and you can't just say that I'm a fag. Perhaps Rukawa is, but me...screw that.' Mitsui protests; he can've smashed the table with that temper. He stands up in a flash and sits down again. Extreme confusion; that's what bugs him right now.

'When was the last time you were in love then?' Miyagi asks curiously, there is doubt in his tone and he can't help but to shed light to it.

'5 years ago the 2nd time, 10 years the first. Both were female.' Mitsui answers succinctly.

'Only 2? How numerically insignificant and besides, you were too young at a time.'

'So?'

'Well, it could be that you were unsure yet. People change in puberty; sometimes they just wake up and face the mirror and realize that they don't desire the opposite sex.' Miyagi says omnisciently; Mitsui is far from convinced, right now he is glaring murderously at Miyagi when...

Rukawa suddenly swings in to view. Mitsui's eyes trace his movements and hisses to Miyagi,

'This is what I've been waiting for; I'm gonna prove to you now what a retarded piece of a fuckhead Rukawa is. Look at the idiot; he dumps himself in the usual spot (canteen's right corner side), orders soup and noodles (there), takes out his hanky and wipes the table for germs (see that, Miyagi?), and blankly munches on his meal.' Mitsui narrates ceaselessly with a suppressed laughter. 'What a moron.'

Miyagi doesn't find this too amazing or fascinating; he reclines his back on the chair and peruses Mitsui with an undeniably shirty glance.

'What again?'

'You hang around here just to watch Rukawa?' Miyagi asks in a dismayed tone.

'Investigating him, more like. I want to collect evidence of his idiocy. My hobby.' Mitsui answers confidently, as if it was really that amazing.

Sigh. Stalking him, that's it. Miyagi thinks and exhales with difficulty. 'Sometimes, we try to hate people whom we are in love with so we wouldn't bother worrying ourselves sick with non stop thoughts of them.'

'I plainly detest him. Period.'

'Oh no, mate. No you don't.' Miyagi blips open a meaningful smile. This gives Mitsui a shivering current through his arteries. Darn.

'Fuck you-'

'Listen Mitchy, I promise to help you. I will make you not like Rukawa. This isn't the way. If you don't want to be queer and all, I'll help you; I'll straighten you up. I know this is hard but if I can do anything about it, all you have to do is call me. There's no harm in trying.'

'But-'

'No buts. Come on, let's start. But first you have to tell me everything. Deal?'

Mitsui says nothing. He's confused, alright.

'You can't lose to him. If you can't fight the feeling, then you're totally screwed. Don't be just another fag. Mitchy, trust me.'

Then Mitsui starts a melodramatic confession from the first time he had a crush to the time when Rukawa made a dashing entrance to his life. He's a mess, and total one for that matter. And yes, Miyagi's right; of course he has this thing for Rukawa.

TBC

A/N: Okay, the chapter sucks but please bear with this. Thanks for reading. Ciao!


	4. Last Chapter

Desire and Destruction

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

A/N: Last chapter, it is. Hahahaha. Due to consecutive class suspensions, I was able to find time ending this story. Thanks to the transportation strike.

Last Chapter: In the Name of Happily Ever After

'...And now he just came and everything fell apart. I mean, yeah; he just messed everything up and now I'm like this,' Mitsui breathes in as he ends his tale.

'Like what? Always obsessing?' Miyagi assumes, a little smile is visibly playing on his lips.

'Don't use the word. Heaven help me with this.' Mitsui sighs pathetically and directs his gaze somewhere else to avoid Miyagi's scrutiny.

'Yeah, but like it or not; what you're suffering now is near obsession if not obsession itself. Listen Mitchy, you have to start treating Rukawa like a human being. Abusing him is an escapist's idea of solving the problem; it's not gonna help.' Miyagi says sympathetically.

'I can't. I told you I'm always angry with him for some reason. I want to butcher him sometimes because-'

'Because love can be violent.' Miyagi volunteers; again, a grin is plastered on his face however slightly. 'There's such a thing as a violent attraction and there IS peaceful animosity as well. Things can seem really ironic at times.'

'And illogical. Remember the shit I've gone through with Mari Su? It was...mad.' Mitsui pauses at the recollection. Funny how terrible that infatuation seems to him now. 'But Ryochin, what if I can't treat him with respect? What am I to do? Oh, I'm doomed.'

Mitsui droops his head, his eyes are now lachrymose and his respiration becomes even more restless. Miyagi forces a laugh.

'Well if you can't do that; I guess, you can just ignore him.' Miyagi says as a matter of factly; a stupid smile seems permanently glued on him.

'Ignore him? But Miyagi, I thought you're gonna help me not like Rukawa anymore? I thought...' Mitsui's words trail off and he resumes his languish recline on the chair behind him. Somehow, a realization crashes on him-

'I can't make you hate Rukawa; no one can. It's all up you but believe me, it's gonna be a long and tedious process.' Miyagi answers omnisciently. How honest and yet, the brutality of it is unbearable, even despicable.

'So you're ok with the fact that I'm----?' Mitsui says with puppy eyes; an obvious pain seems to come along with that hard swallow in fact.

'Your identity crisis or sexuality is pretty much nobody's business. What can I do about it, neh?' Miyagi simpers almost sweetly. 'Being confused right now is only wrong from a dim witted slob's standpoint, but since I'm open minded; I guess, there's no moral argument in that.'

'Thanks a bunch.' Mitsui smiles without bitterness for the first time in that pensive hour. 'Hey, you tricked me into telling you, didn't you?'

'Yeah. But I wanted to help you.' Miyagi says.

In the evening.

Mitsui sleeps more comfortably than he did for the last few nights. The sandman blows his dust and a dream falls on him.

He's lying on the gym; exactly in the middle court where centers converge for a jump ball. The silence is shooting out from each corner to vanquish the resistance of the atmosphere; it's almost frightening to witness the place with such tranquility. But he doesn't move an inch from that stillness; instead, he steers his gaze upward to be exposed in the milky iridescence of the stars. 2 thousand giant balls of fire smile upon him; then it dawns on him, where the hell is the gym's roof? Doesn't really matter; anything can be normal in dreams and likewise, anything normal can seem twisted in them. He concentrates on the view; a dark blanket spotted with white dots of lights like pearls...Beautiful. Star gazing has never felt this uplifting. But then,

Somebody's face begins to materialize from the glitches of the stars as they trace a certain pattern of an eerie image. Someone familiar to him; he who always catches his flippant attention, he who's ever the object of his wrath, irritation, and desire, is appearing from the darkness of the skies.

'Kaede?' Mitsui asks calmly.

At the practice

If you can't treat him with the least courtesy, then try to ignore him. Miyagi's words are tingling through Mitsui's auditory nerves. Shouldn't be that hard to deal with, but later he will be subjected to the same unreasonable anger that blows up at the mere sight of Rukawa. If all else fails, there are always the emergency measures; even if they make him look like a clown.

So Mitsui settles not to look at Rukawa. Yeah, desperate times call for desperate actions; and the practice game turns into a masquerade of missed everything. Meaning;

Mitsui, in his effort to avert Rukawa from his vision screen, passes the ball to him with his head turned to the opposite direction. 5 times that he makes an awful pass and unforced turnovers, and every time he does so his eyes are somewhere off the court and its action.

'Look where you're going, dumby! And watch out for your no look passes; they suck!' Akagi reprimands him with all the obstreperous tone of a furious gorilla. If only he knows that it isn't about making impressive plays and all those exhibition passes; it's about Rukawa and avoiding him.

If Mitsui's accidental glances of Rukawa were to be met by the other's equally fiery ones; he will have fainted on the spot or worse, he will have conjured all hell from beneath and started another set of invectives hurling. But as usual, Rukawa is behind a facade of what they call snob mask. Lucky for Mitsui, it is.

The practice ends and no wonder, Mitsui messed up the game; practically no assists and rebounds. The only consolation is his 15 points; though what in the world of fart is 15 points compared to Rukawa's 27? Or shouldn't he be getting over that? Darn, he's getting mad at Rukawa again and right now, red hot fury is burning his face as his blue pupils change their hues into something near the shade of scarlet.

'Cool out, mate.'

It's Miyagi, the ever present controller of his mood. He's snucking another cautionary stare at the senior yet something in it seems to tell Mitsui that he managed himself very well that day. Of course he has; he has never vituperated Rukawa and what's more, minimal glances were exchanged. Mitsui immediately gathers himself up; yeah, it will be just fine. He moves to the locker room with higher spirits.

When he gets there, Rukawa's the 4th person his eyes fall upon. 'Oh,' He mutters quickly and twists his neck to the other side.

'D'you have a stiff neck, Mitchy?'

Sakuragi. It isn't much of an insult or a tease or anything sarcastic; it's probably concern plus curiosity. Even the red head's voice is sprawling with innocence; how unbecoming.

'Uh, why d'you ask?' Mitsui asks shakily His nerves start to quirk, probably out of panic of something. Weird feeling.

'Nothing. Just for the whole time your face---I mean, your head is rotated to this side and that but, err, never looks forward. I don't know. I wonder if-'

'Yeah. Star gazing last night; 'twas great and sky was bright. Kept looking up for a long time and in the morning my neck just sorta ached. Probably because of it;

yeah, star gazing.' Mitsui stutters. Sakuragi snaps his brows in a cynical frown; Mitsui's being incoherent like a gaggling goose.

'Star gazing, huh? Exciting.' Sakuragi marches off, still besmirched with suspicion.

Star gazing, it is; in a dream so to speak. And there was Rukawa in that dream of course or was it a dream? It was more of an incubus. Darn.

After taking a leak and attending to his vainglorious responsibility of facing the mirror, Mitsui packs up; all set to scram to the road. He steps out of the locker room and after gliding 3 steps, he hears a rustle behind him.

It's Rukawa.

Don't be upset. Manipulate your temper. Heighten your degree of flexibility. Remember courtesy. Ignore him. Whatever. Mitsui's mind is reeling with all these banalities. But his physical actions win him over as he faces Rukawa before he stops himself.

'What, Rukawa?' Mitsui feints indifference.

'I'm sorry, sempai.'

'About what?' Mitsui hisses. One little push towards frankness and those words will turn into a curse. But incredibly, his temper is contained.

'I told you to go to hell.'

'Yeah, you should be kissing my ass now.' Mitsui replies crudely and realizing that he's off his screws 'I mean, forget it.'

'I apologize.'

'Yeah, yeah. Apology accepted. Adios.' Mitsui spits peremptorily and scoots off the place. He's not even sure if he's forgiven Rukawa to the depths of his heart.

He strolls slowly down the sidewalk, neither feeling anger nor relief. He muses on Rukawa. Come to think of it, Rukawa's adapting self deprecation and it might be the pivotal point of everything unpleasant between them. But that will mean Mitsui too has to change at that and more importantly, he must practice all that self effacing crap as well. Dammit. Why the fuck does it have to be stuffed with conflicts? This is fucking weak. Mitsui tells himself.

But then isn't conflict the stuff he and Rukawa are made of? They're like politics; what with all the bickering and nagging and the disagreement. Do they need to compromise? Answer is plainly positive as it becomes clear to Mitsui that all he has to do is to comply. For one thing, Rukawa already took the first step even before he apologized. A little earlier in the game, a shift of gameplay is governing Rukawa's game because he no longer kept the ball to himself which is the secondary reason for Mitsui's hatred (the first one's emotional). Yeah, Rukawa gave away opportunities which is a sign of generosity that he, until then, begrudged his team mates.

'Well deserved.' Mitsui mutters.

Next day

'Ryochin, don't jump from your seat; Rukawa apologized to me.' Mitsui whispers to Miyagi. They are currently supine in a couple of chairs looking like school girls with destructive secrets to share.

'What?' Miyagi groans in disbelief. He doesn't jump from his seat yet, his head almost bangs on the snack desk. It's really that shocking after all.

'Yeah, yesterday. And his game is changed too but...he said sorry because he told me to go to hell.'

'I think this is driving for the better. I say keep it up.' Miyagi says heartily, looking sincerely happy for his friend.

'I'm worried.'

'What about?' Miyagi frowns. He doesn't get the point of getting worried after the fascinating impossible just happened; Rukawa and condescension in one picture is a little more than a once in a life time.

'Ryota, if I become nice to him; I might completely fall for him especially if he decides to be nice to me too. Could it be or would it be better to just stay harsh and mean to him? I mean, I don't want that but if I fall totally....' Mitsui falters as his face gets more wan with anxiety.

'Well, it's either he will like you back for a happy ending or you will continue to hate him; but choosing the latter, it should be firm grounded.'

'That there should be reason to hate him? Is that it?' Says the very confused and ill disposed Mitsui.

'Exactly.'

Mitsui decides the latter way. His solution; to invite Rukawa in a one on one match, let himself lose devastatingly, and fly into another fit of anger. He knows that losing in basketball is the least thing he likes and if Rukawa gives him that; there should be ample reason to detest him. The problem of emotions getting along the way is a matter of someday, not at the present. Desperation goes that far indeed.

Next day

Rukawa finds a note in his bag.

_Meet me at NW local court at 5:30. One on one. _

_-Mitsui_

Somewhere in the heart of Kanagawa

Mitsui dons himself in his typical practice attire; maroon shirt and white shorts. It's 5:24 and the sun's orange twilight is brimming the space. He sits by the steel bench in NW local court with a leather ball clutched between his legs. He will tap on it at intervals to signify his boredom and to suggest that he's waiting for someone. Once in a while, he will get offers to play from the kids playing there; naturally, he will refuse. This poses another problem; once Rukawa alights to the scene spectators will rush in and no doubt nose around and cheer. Main thing is, Mitsui intends to lose this game and if he does so with so many people around…it will be an absolute shame. Darn. But won't he blame that on Rukawa?

Kids on court stop dribbling the ball. A sound of chain is swinging in. Rukawa arrives on his pink bike. Mitsui stands up to greet him.

'You didn't chicken out after all.' Says Mitsui cheekily.

'…'

The crowd dumps itself along the court to watch the spectacle. Mitsui moves toward them to clean the vicinity,

'Hi. I'm a friend of Tetsuo's; the professional combat fighter who cracks heads like yours. He'll be coming by in a few minutes and if you don't sweep out, then be his guest.' Mitsui sibilates with a grin. The name of Tetsuo the gangster instantly conjures panic as the supposed audience slip away from the local court. Quietude ensues once more.

Now it's up to Mitsui and Rukawa to put up with this. Alone by themselves; too seldom does this incident happen.

Rukawa stares at Mitsui, seeming like ransacking the senior's soul for answers. What exactly is this all about?

But Mitsui chides in 'Game? Let's go.' He douses to Rukawa the ball, 'Your turn.' Shouldn't it be starting off with a toss coin? But what the hell.

Rukawa dribbles the ball. Mitsui stands by without assuming a sticky defensive stance; for the record, he does run after the freshman but slowly and without difficulty. Rukawa halts and looks at the senior. Mitsui smiles, 'Try me.' and stretches out his arm for a steal. All is done too loosely; this child's play for Rukawa. Mitsui's no match. Rukawa eschews the sly attempt to disarm him of the ball and slides his way to the rim for a slam. Ball drops. Score is 1-0 in favor of Rukawa.

'First possession luck,' Mitsui brags. It's all going the way he plans it but…he's not yet feeling any hint of anger. 'Uhmmm, my ball. And have I told you? This is race to 3.'

Mitsui skips to the right and transfers the ball to his left; too heedless, he slides it down his hand to be caught by Rukawa. What a blatant display of farce; it isn't Mitsui's common mistake to let the ball disappear from his clutches, even if he's that hacked.

The turnover results to another Kitsune point; 2-0.

'Darn! Uh, my ball again.' Mitsui croaks, faking distress about the miss.

He grabs the ball and, with all his speed that can't equal that of Rukawa, storms forward the bucket and leaps a too-early, prone distance for the point. He knows that Rukawa's in perfect position to block him and inevitably, Mitsui receives a fly swatter.

A block is the worst humiliation in a game. If one player's shot is blocked; it's is not he alone who gets the embarrassment, his team mates will have to impart with it.

'Damn!' Mitsui shouts. Is he feeling genuine animosity towards Rukawa now?

Rukawa runs for the ball and pads up for the final dunk. 3-0; game's over.

'You won. Great.' Mitsui says sarcastically; right now, he's feeling…

'No.' Rukawa chimes in an instant. 'I want a rematch.'

'Oh yeah, but you won.' Mitsui argues.

'You didn't try.' Rukawa mumbles disappointedly; his most expressive thought for the day. He can've said that all is a sham and that Mitsui's one big pathetic harlequin who deliberately gets himself pummeled in a dintless match. How stupid.

Mitsui squints at him. Rukawa knows it; about the scripted play and schemed tactics and all. It must have been too obvious given that Rukawa, the ever so know-nothing-notice-nothing Ice King, realizes it all; but there's always the resort to denial to cover it up. Oh well,

'Hell, I fucking did—'

'HISASHI! CHRIST, THERE YOU ARE! WE'VE BEEN LOOKING ALL OVER KANAGAWA FOR YOU!' A familiar, collective voice that belongs to neither of the 2 calls Mitsui.

Mitsui turns around and snipes a glance at the wired fence. He is greeted by 5 faces that he used to know dearly for years past. His childhood friends came to visit him, at long last. These 5 people, slightly altered in physical maturity, are terribly missed by Mitsui. He wonders if they're all hooked now; back then, they were big time playboys ranging from 5'0 feet to 5'3.

'Hey, come over here.' Mistui calls excitedly as the 5 swarm in.

Every bit of them jumps in delight. Questions are piled instantly at the very glad Mitsui;

'Hisashi, you've grown taller! And look, you're still Pretty Boy! Hahahaha. No longer single, I hope?'

'You didn't call me last Christmas. I was gonna tell you about my girlfriend.'

'Hisashi, how many girls have you had since Mari Su? Man, you did whore your self to that slut. Hahahaha. '

All Mitsui can answer is. 'No. No figures, really.'

And questions will fire away again;

'You mean with such good looks, you haven't netted any?'

'I don't believe you, how come?'

'Come on, I'll find you a cute girl. You deserve it for being chaste and clean.'

Then Mitsui will hesitate and, 'No thanks, I'm happy.'

'Alright. But hey, come and let's dine somewhere in the malls. But first, we want to hear everything about you, Hisashi.'

'Well, there's not much about me for the past 5 years. You see, I haven't had a girlfriend and err,-' Mitsui gives it a start only to be responded by incurious frowns from the energetic friends.

'Don't be pathetic, Hisashi, you haven't been in love all this time?'

That ever so annoying, apocalyptic query of social status. Everybody's eyes are bulging out of their sockets like a dual shock just electrified them. Mitsui's doomed in a tight tangle if he answers that now. Why the fuck do they have to fuck things up so pretty badly? I'm in pit bog right now with no girlfriend ever since and ever after, why can't they see it for goodness' sake? Mitsui thinks irritably.

'I don't know; maybe I am now.' Mitsui splutters.

'What do you mean, 'I don't know'? There are plenty of girls to swive here in Kanagawa; we already passed by a lot of qualified chicks. How come you're out of selection?'

'Well, confused. I guess.' Mitsui struggles for an excuse. 'Confused' is a part of it but there's too much behind that too.

'Errr, I understand. We understand. But come, let's eat in Burger King downtown; my stomach's rambling. And after that, you can narrate the gap of 5 years.'

'Errr, guys. I still have business here. You see, Rukawa and I-' Mitsui begins.

'Who's Rukawa?'

Rukawa stands there like a forlorn statue. He has been there long enough and nobody ever bothers to acknowledge his presence until now. Mitsui's friends look at the freshman and learn that he's the owner of the name. Somehow, Mitsui is feeling that it's now his turn to apologize to Rukawa for the trouble. But something out of this world transpires to him; Rukawa IS his love. No matter how the world is quaked and what people say and condemn on him, Rukawa will always be his love. Sometimes, it takes a hell of a lot to respect it or even admit it; but to keep it and deny it to oneself is arrant degradation.

And now, these people are asking him if he's ever been in love. And they are with intention to make fun of him like the old days. Well of course; the answer is right before their eyes. He will tell them; come what fucking may.

'Well, he? He's the one I'm gonna spend my life with.' Mitsui answers flatly without a trace of being abashed but even proud of it. He pulled it up! He's free!

His friends freeze on the spot. Jaws are probably dropping and hairs are graying in the quickest span of time. Rukawa blinks. Mitsui grins stupidly even as he did when he used to follow his first crush in the school's cafeteria. It takes moments before the insanity sinks in until,

'Hisashi, are you sure about this?' One of Mitsui's friends breaks in. 'I mean, does he ever feel the same?'

Obviously, it is a little bit too hard for Mitsui's friends to believe or even concede to their friend's crookedness. Much more, what's the chance of someone like Rukawa, who's almost as equally handsome as Mitsui, to be gay also? This gets Mitsui enmeshed in a network of bafflement; he hasn't even told Rukawa! That's his one great, tormenting mistake. Of course, there's no way Rukawa could've known it and knowing Rukawa…he might disdain Mitsui forever or worse, deny him.

But…

'Yes. I feel the same, sempai.' This time Rukawa looks straight at Mitsui.

No further questions are asked that day and their meal is silently conveyed in Burger King down town.

Will Rukawa and Mitsui live happily ever after?

Surely.

But of course, a petty quarrel once in a while will cap it all.

(Epilogue)

'Rukawa, pass me the ball.'

No pass.

'Damn, Rukawa! Come on, give it to me!'

Hmmmph.

'Oh fuck it, man. Make a pass, you're in a mess.'

'…'

'Oooops. I forgot.' Mitsui smiles. '_Kae-chan_, pass the ball to me.'

Swoosh.

'Thanks.'

END

A/N: Thanks for reading. Especially to my reviewers, Mistress KC, Kaara, Mifune, Hagane, Dream Kingdom and of course, Castor and Pollux; my partner in crime.

I was sort of sick while writing this and it was only because of the class suspension that I had the time. So thanks to CHED too. Hehehehe.


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